Confusion
by PERMANENT DEACTIVATED ACCOUNT
Summary: The year is 1886 and Sawada Tsunayoshi really should not be here. How is a certain Vongola Primo going to deal with his unexpected guest from the future?


A/N: SO, some quick background. I KNOW Giotto was around 400 years before the start of the series, but, for my own convenience, this is taking place in the year 1886. Why? Because the Victorian era is much funner to write about than the dark ages. By leaps and bounds. That, and this would be about the time where Japan is starting to develop the East/West hybrid social structure that we see today. Vongola Primo is 24 years old and Tsuna is 19. I've taken some liberties with the nature of Tsuna's confidence (he _has_ been with Reborn for what, 4 years now?), but I'm not going to make him into a Gary Sue. Dear God, no. And if I start to, please, please, tell me.

NOTE: I own nothing but my rabid yaoi fangirl imagination. I don't own KHR or its character. The series would probably be X-rated if I did. :D Onwards to the story!

* * *

Vongola Primo was _not _a happy man right now. Not in the least. In fact, it would be quite the understatement of the century to say that he was upset. Vongola Primo was past furious. At this moment, he was pacing across the (rather expensive, mind you) carpeting of his office and trying to make sense of _what the FUCK just happened. _

Oh, the day had started well enough. He had gotten up, had his coffee and a light breakfast, gotten a bit of paperwork out of the way, and settled some negotiations with several Japanese men in reference to the changing political atmosphere at the other side of the globe. The meeting had even made learning Japanese worth it, when the translator from the other side had begun to take liberties with his translations. Needless to say, it put the Japanese side of the negotiations at a disadvantage, leaving one certain Mafia boss very pleased with his new overseas influence. Hell, even lunch had gone by smoothly. There wasn't a _single_ instance of his guardians destroying some part of the mansion with their squabbles. Maybe he should have taken that as an omen.

At the light rapping on his door, Giotto paused and looked up to glare at whoever it was that was suicidal enough to walk in on him while he was mentally seething. "What?"

He couldn't help but feel just a little guilty when his subordinate visibly flinched at the question.

"Um…well, the doctors thought that you may know that, um…well, the intruder is waking up, and, um…perhaps you wanted to see him…?"

Damn. Did he really look that angry? He ran his hand through his hair and huffed. "Very well. Thank you for informing me."

As he made his way down to the infirmary, Giotto did a quick mental recap of why exactly he was so upset. Lunch had passed by uneventfully and was _supposed_ to be followed by an hour or so of paperwork. However, Giotto never got to spend more than five minutes actually working. Whether or not this was a good thing was still being debated. Apparently, someone had managed to make their way into the hidden mansion. Now, normally, this wasn't too extraordinary of a task. The mansion was huge and part of the grounds was open for public tours. What was upsetting was that not only was this person in the mansion, but he was also in _the dead center of the underground facilities_. The underground facilities weren't just off-limits to the public. Oh no, they were off-limits and unknown to about 5/6 of the familgia. How and outsider had gotten in was a big mystery and meant that clearly, there was something _very _wrong with the security that was in place. Giotto had been told that the intruder was found slumped against a wall and unconscious due to blood loss from multiple stab wounds. The(completely un-) funny part was that no one had reported actually fighting the intruder.

Giotto paused when he finally reached the infirmary and stood with one hand on the door. He knew that things could easily get very ugly, very fast and if his last 24 years in this life had taught him anything, it was that he should never let his guard down around strangers. Ever.

Taking a deep breath he pushed the door open to finally see who it was that had managed to make it so deep into Vongola headquarters. At that moment, Giotto found himself wondering whether someone had made it into the underground facilities was really the most disturbing part of the situation. Wrapped in bandages and sitting propped up on pillows was the face and body of what appeared to be a child. A very confused and innocent child. Giotto could feel his gut twisting into uncomfortable positions as he continued to stare at the large honey-colored eyes of who he supposed was currently his enemy. Who the hell sent a kid by himself into enemy territory? And for that matter, if the kid was good enough to get this far, how long had they been training him? Children had no business in the mafia!

"Um, excuse me?" asked an uncertain voice.

Giotto snapped out of his mental rant and, after a moment of silence, finally realized that the voice belonged to the stranger on the bed. "Yes?"

"Can you please tell me where I am right now? No one is answering any of my questions and, well," the boy paused to scratch his neck and look sheepishly and his lap, "you look like, um, well, you look like you might be in charge around here."

Giotto had to raise an eyebrow at this. Did the kid honestly expect to get any answers with questions like that? He was lucky that no one had killed him on site. After a moment of mental debate, Giotto answered the boy with a simple "Italy."

What Giotto was not expecting was for the boy to suddenly sit up and look like he'd been slapped. "Really?! Well no wonder everyone's speaking Italian!"

The boy was laughing. What. The. Hell. The Vongola boss was quickly losing patience for the kid. How the boy possibly not know what country he was in? This was beyond ridiculous. "Boy, how old are you?"

"I'm 19 years old."

Giotto frowned. "You're really not in a position to lie. I want the truth."

The boy became visibly irritated at the comment. "I _am_ giving you the truth. Whether or not you accept it is not my business. I'm 19 years old and, unless you have some godly powers that I don't know about, I'm going to stay that way until my next birthday, when I'll turn 20."

_This boy has absolutely no idea who he's talking to, does he?_

"Listen, I'm going to ask you this once, and only once. If I don't like the answer you give me, I'm handing you off to my interrogators. Got it?"

The boy nodded once with an expression that Giotto thought was far too calculating and serious for such an innocent looking face.

"How did you get into my underground my facilities and what were you doing there?"

There was a long, moment of silence that seemed to stretch out into a short eternity.

"You know, I'd like to know the answer to those questions too."

Giotto didn't like were this was going. Not one bit.

* * *

R&R, please!


End file.
